


Poilu.

by Mothman_plays_the_drums



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Kim Hongjoong is whipped from day one, Light Angst, M/M, Soldiers, and in france!, but so is Seonghwa, disregard for reailty, this is just super soft man, war!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothman_plays_the_drums/pseuds/Mothman_plays_the_drums
Summary: it was on the corner of Rue du Château and Rue de l'Église, in a small registration office, where Kim Hongjoong first met the love of his life.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54
Collections: Seongjoong Week 2020





	Poilu.

**Author's Note:**

> alright!! first off, thank you for reading, this thing has been my baby for a few weeks now. I'm so happy I finished it because I worked hard on this and I really hope it shows.

May 30

**  
  
**

Hongjoong was sitting in a small registration office on the corner of Rue du Château and Rue de l'Église when he first saw Park Seonghwa. He was sitting on a bench right next to the door to the in-house physician's office. He could remember it all, if you asked him, every little thing about the moments leading up to seeing Park Seonghwa. The book was Cinq Grandes Odes, and the doctor had been in his office (despite having no current patient) for more than fifteen minutes, and the lady at the desk was talking animatedly about her son's upcoming wedding, when the door flew open and in came a boy. 

Hongjoong payed it no mind at first, but then the boy stood still, catching a breath, and the mustard yellow of his sweater caught Joong's eye. 

Hongjoong saw him, and thought he looked beautiful in a way no one should be allowed to touch. His hair was a lighter blond than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, and didn't match the yellow quite right at all, but the boy didn't need to match when he had eyes that knew they'd change the world and a face that distracted from everything else in the room. Hongjoong knew he was staring, but a boy like that deserved to be stared at, that boy did little to nothing and somehow his soul demanded an opportunity to make himself known, and the boy looked at him, but Joong couldn't bring himself to look away. It seemed the boy couldn't either. 

\--

Seonghwa was ten minutes late to his appointment at the registration center, and he knew he made a scene in the drowsy registry hall as he pushed the door open, bringing him to a stop from a full sprint. The lady at the desk sent him a glare as he stepped in, stopping just short of the door to catch his breath. He looked up at the ceiling and brought his arms up in a stretch. 

Seonghwa looked down to see a boy staring, and his eyes had to have been stolen from an angel. He looked absolutely stricken, and so, so odd. He was hunched over a book in a way that made Seonghwa want to know more about it, and the way he held Seonghwa's gaze was so magnetic, he almost felt he had no will but to follow it. So odd was the boy, with a pen in his hand (Seonghwa could image to be writing in the book) and some kind of cloth pushing bangs much longer than he's ever seen on a man before away from his eyes (and oh, were those eyes something,) and well, to say Seonghwa was powerless to himself would be so far understated. 

Seonghwa waved to the boy with a polite smile and, to his surprise, the boy smiled back. He looked to the desk for a moment, then back to the boy. 

"Hello," he mouthed. The boy mouthed a greeting back, perhaps even showing a blush (but perhaps that was Seonghwa's imagination.) The doctor called for the enigmatic man at the bench, calling him "Hongjoong." 

He followed the doctor, but only after finally saying something to Seonghwa. "May we speak, later?" Before the blond could answer, Hongjoong was gone. He only hoped the boy would stay long enough for Seonghwa to say hello after they finished registering. 

The boy, however, seemed to be all too happy to leave as he stormed away from the doctor's office and out of the building, leaving behind a speechless Seonghwa and a poetry book on the bench.

Hongjoong only realized he'd left his book behind after about a block, when he'd already given up on holding back tears. He figured it wasn't worth it to go back and face that kind of humiliation again, especially not in front of the boy he'd seen, who must've been in tip-top shape and ready to laugh at him. Into an alley he ducked, and leaned up against a wall, hoping for some semblance of privacy in lieu of just making it home. 

_ It's a shame you weren't taller.  _

_ What a scrawny boy, has it ever crossed your mind to play a sport?  _

_ And what's wrong with that hair of yours?  _

_ They'd make mince meat of you on the field, boy. _

_ Fuck him _ , Hongjoong decided.  _ Fuck that doctor. Fuck his taunts, I'll do what I please _ . 

His resolve may have been strong, but his will still broke against the wall he slid down, coming to sit despite how his mother would scold him. He cried, people passed, gave him odd looks, and he didn't give a damn, for once. 

"Now, what would someone be doing crying out here in the streets of Paris?" 

He looked up and about the alley before settling on the boy standing on the sidewalk beside him. The boy from before was looking down at him so worriedly now, in contrast to the playfulness of the remark. It made Hongjoong look around again, and then point to himself. A silent,  _ "you mean me?"  _

"Yes," the boy answered, his voice intermingling perfectly with a snicker, "I'm talking to you. Are you ok?" The boy moved closer and crouched down next to Joong. Suddenly, he held out a book. 

It was a well loved book, it's manilla cover, well, covered in hand drawn stars and planets and drawings that had nothing to do with the contents, and across the very middle, golden letters spelled, "Cinq Grandes Odes." Hongjoong breathed the words, and then he looked back up at the boy. "Mine?" 

The boy was flushed, embarrassingly so, as he nodded and handed the book over to him. Hongjoong couldn't have been much better looking. His eyes were, likely, still bleary, and his nose was most definitely running, but the boy somehow stared at him with such interest. 

"Thank you." 

"Of course. Are you ok?" 

Ah yes, that question. It would be rude not to answer, Hongjoong knew, but he also wouldn't bring himself to lie to the boy, so he decided a little discourtesy couldn't hurt. "Did you come looking for me to return this?" 

The boy smiled, and perhaps it gave Hongjoong enough energy to fuel him for the rest of his life. "I suppose," he replied, "is that a tad creepy?" 

"That's very creepy," the smaller retorted, "but I'll give it a pass since this is my favorite poetry book. Creepy or not, I owe you one." For the first time since seeing Hongjoong at the registering facility, Seonghwa watched him smile. 

"It's an honor to be forgiven by you," he joked, before holding out his hand. "I don't think I introduced myself. My name is Park Seonghwa." 

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Park. I'm Kim Hongjoong, I'm sure you heard the doctor say it." Hongjoong took Seonghwa's hand, but they never shook. "I'm sorry our first conversation had to take place with me looking like an absolute wreck," he added with a small, bitter laugh. "That doctor isn't known for his kindness." 

"Ah, right," Seonghwa agreed, "Dr. Lee can always find something wrong with you. Apparently, my hair is just too bright for his liking. I don't understand what he'd like me to do with it, it isn't like I can magically  _ fix _ the blond." 

"He commented on my hair too, actually. Man must've wanted to be a barber. I pity his wife." 

"Do you think he comes home every night and complains about, "these kids, and their new fangled hairstyles!"" 

"Oh, no doubt. He gets home and shrugs off his doctor coat and insists on giving all of his children haircuts. Then, he lectures them on how they'll never wear their hair as  _ horridly  _ as ours." 

"A beautiful story, Hongjoong." 

The two laughed, Seonghwa having sat down, about the doctor for a long while, when suddenly, Seonghwa stood. 

"Can I walk you home?" 

And, well, Hongjoong would be a fool to say no, so off they walked, making conversation of anything (but mostly of the rude doctor, and the  _ obviously _ accurate tales of what he did while he was off of work,) and as they arrived at Hongjoong's house, they continued to laugh. Hongjoong's mother stood, waiting at the door, and Seonghwa sent her a polite wave that Mrs. Kim returned. 

"What day do you leave for training?" The smaller asked before he stepped in his gate. 

"June 15th. You?" 

For reasons it would take Seonghwa a long, long time to understand, that answer made Hongjoong grin. "The same. I guess I'll see you soon, Park Seonghwa." 

"Shall we meet somewhere?" 

"If you can't find me, the nearest flagpole is always a safe bet." 

"Then I'll meet you there." 

"Agreed." Hongjoong unlatched his gate and stepped in, onto the sidewalk that lead to his house. "On June 15th?" 

"Of course. At seven AM precisely?" 

"Obviously. At the flagpole?" 

Joong was playing a game, dragging it out, perhaps, and Seonghwa was smart enough to know that. Perhaps Seonghwa enjoyed the game. "Definitely. Will your mother be waiting just like that when we meet again?" 

The retort brought a giggle out of Hongjoong as he glanced back at his mother, still standing in the door. He looked back to Seonghwa and tipped his head to the side. "Maybe not. I'll see you then, Park Seonghwa. It'll be an honor."

"Absolutely." 

With that, Joong finally turned away from his new friend and walked the steps to the house, giving one last glance to the boy outside his gate, as well as a wave. As soon he closed the door behind himself, the stern face she'd been serving the boys dissolved into a smirk as she asked, "Now, what happened to Mr. "I don't need friends, they're for the birds?" Who are you, and what did you do with  _ my  _ son?" 

The boy groaned, turning away from his mother. "Must you always bring up my failures, Mother? I made a friend!" He giggled out of pure excitement and turned back to the woman. "And he'll be in basic training with me, can you believe it?" 

Mrs. Kim grinned . It was a full, gummy smile that Hongjoong had always wished he'd gotten, opposed to his father's. "Ah, that's my boy! What a good time to make friends, yeah? Does he like that author you love so much?" 

"I haven't the slightest, but he listened to me talk about it anyways! And he didn't comment on my hair, my height, nothing! Of course, he could decide I'm not worth his time, but goodness, mother, he was so kind today." Hongjoong was beginning to ramble at that point, so he stopped himself. His excitement still showed, though. 

Mrs. Kim rolled her eyes, still grinning just as wide as Joong, and told him to go wash up and, as she said, "Tell me more about this  _ perfect _ boy over dinner." Of course, the boy did so quickly and enthusiastically. 

Training came and went quickly, and all of it was spent with Hongjoong attached to Seonghwa's side. Hongjoong would never get used to the energy of the army. It all seemed to revolve around one thing: being a man.

Seonghwa fit that bill perfectly. He was strong, and he liked hearing about every little thing from the other men of their group. He held a confidence that commanded respect, Hongjoong knew it'd take him far. 

Hongjoong wasn't like that, as much as he wished he was. Seonghwa liked him, though. No matter what, Seonghwa stuck by his side. 

April 9, 1 year later

It's such a stupid idea, Hongjoong thought, to look Seonghwa in the eye and  _ tell _ him that he thinks about him in a way no man should. It may have been just as stupid to be staring at him so blatantly where he sat, "reading." He lost interest in the book long ago, getting distracted instead in the tunes Seonghwa sung as he wrote. What he was writing, Hongjoong couldn't have cared less about, paperwork, maybe. It was his voice Joong was so encaptured by. He'd never thought of himself as a man to fall in love with a person's voice, but then again, he'd never heard Hwa sing before. 

He must've been looking at the aspirant exactly like he had when they first met. 

The older looked up at Hongjoong, mostly just to give him a blushy, attempting-to-look-annoyed smile as he spoke. "You're staring, Joong." 

"I know," the soldier replied in haste. 

Seonghwa shook his head, trying to hide a widening smile behind his hand as he directed his eyes back to his work. "Take a picture, darling. It'll last longer." His words were sarcastic, but oh, if Hongjoong's heart didn't fly at the mention of being Seonghwa's "darling." It really was more than the man ever thought he deserved.

Hongjoong countered, "I fear a picture could never do you justice." The office the two sat in felt smaller with the seconds, with Joong quickly starting to regret his words. Seonghwa looked up at him again.

"Your fears must be heavily misplaced. I'm not much to look at." 

Hongjoong sucked in a dramatic gasp, standing up. "Park Seonghwa, how  _ dare  _ you say that?" He stomped over to the man's desk and brought his hands down to it, to lean over it, or to be close to Seonghwa. "How  _ dare _ you say that when you had women tripping over themselves to look at you, when men aspired to look like you. Oh! How  _ dare  _ it, when you've enamoured me like this."

"Enamoured you, Hongjoong?" 

Hongjoong paused, blood having run cold. Quietly, he stated, "well, hmm.." he couldn't seem to keep eye contact with the other now, and he wasn't as confident as he had been moments ago. Still, he stuttered, "perhaps, um.. well, I mean, perhaps  _ enamoured _ isn't the word…" 

Seonghwa stood, and he moved around his desk to stand in front of Hongjoong. His smile was soft, but Hongjoong could only imagine his friend must've been shocked, disgusted even, at the term. He continued stepping forward. Hongjoong began steps back.

"Well, perhaps it isn't, but if it were.." there was a question there, one that took Hongjoong by surprise.  _ If it were, could I say it was too? _

"If it were, that would be an incredible problem, Hwa. You.. and I.. we're not.. Well, there's the whole issue of our own sexes. That's one issue, it isn't exactly the most welcome, and then there's the issue of.. well, everyone. They love you, and they.. well, they do not like me, and what happens to you if anyone we know finds out you're involved with me? And, what about-" 

"Hongjoong." Seonghwa took Hongjoong's hand in his. Squeezed it. Ran his thumb across the back of it. "If it were, and if we decided not to worry about that, just for now, what would you want?" 

Of the many things Joong couldn't do, he'd always known he was good with words. He thought so, at least, yet, somehow he had to rake his brain for something to say, staring at Seonghwa all the while, as he always did. "I… want to kiss you," He finally murmured. 

Then, the dam broke. Hongjoong's lips finally met Seonghwa's, in what had to be (in his opinion,) the best moment of his life. What beautiful chaos they made, when Hongjoong's resolve to stay quiet broke and he dragged Seonghwa with him, back and back until the smaller had himself pushed against the wall with a thud. 

May 13, the same year

Oh, Seonghwa's blond hair was styled so rigidly, and it commanded respect Hongjoong had given him so long ago, but now, the smaller of the two saw the hard look he adopted with the role of "commander" and giggled at him. Seonghwa tried to look angry, for show, of course, as there was always someone watching him, but pulled Hongjoong in quickly, letting the door to his office fall shut. Like a switch, Hongjoong fell into him with a kiss that tugged the commander down to his level. 

Seonghwa, more than anyone, appreciated these kisses. He appreciated being tugged down to Joong's level, as stupid as it sounds, because Seonghwa's seen himself there ever since they met. He's always been, and always will (despite any military rank, ever) be on Hongjoong's level. 

Seonghwa had been staring. Hongjoong had too.

"Ethereal," Hongjoong sighed. It set him back into motion, kissing over Seonghwa's neck in the same spots he must've kissed a million different times but never got too worn to kiss again. Seonghwa, he thought, was still too beautiful to let anyone touch. Someone as dirty and disgusting and war torn as Hongjoong shouldn't have even been allowed near until he's had several showers, at least. 

Seonghwa was so ethereal in a way that Hongjoong, who would like to believe he's rather good with words, couldn't even begin to describe. Somehow, this ethereal, gorgeous being was so soft with Hongjoong and let the boy wrap his arms around that neck of his and burrow there and rest. Hongjong didn't want to rest tonight, not after the stressful week behind and ahead and when the two spend far, far too long apart as is. 

Seonghwa stopped him though, so gently, as he always was. He was smiling so softly, a smile Hongjoong knew only he and Seonghwa's mother ever saw. Seonghwa played with Hongjoong's mullet, which he could've commented about for the millionth time with an, "it's so long," or, "god, when did you last wash it?" Instead, the boy used it as a way to play with Joong's hair until he'd moved up to his scalp, giving Joong a little scratch that made him giggle again. 

"It's been far too long since I've heard that laugh. An absolute tragedy, if I might say." Seonghwa had moved his hand, letting his palm rest on Hongjoong's cheek. "The last time I heard it must've been... god.. a long time."

"You'd hear it more if we saw each other more often." 

"I'd hear it more if you were able to come back this far more often. I'm always only a few meters away, I truly don't believe how they can't make you do some chores for me or something." 

Hongjoong giggled again. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He leaned against Hwa. "I'm not your maid, nor your mother. Do your own chores." 

"You are no fun, Joongie." Hwa laughed softly to follow Joong. He let his hand fall, running along the soldier's back. Suddenly his eyebrows furrowed. "Jesus. You're tense, baby." 

Hongjoong only hummed into his lover's neck. 

"Hongjoong- love, how long have you been so stressed? Look at me." 

Seonghwa considered himself the luckiest man alive to be on the receiving end of Hongjoong's looks. Always so expressive, those eyes were. If you knew Hongjoong just a bit, you knew exactly what everything Hongjoong felt looked like in his eyes. Now, Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa with a lot of pain, and Seonghwa knew. Seonghwa knew Joong had been wound up for a long, long time in those moments looking into his eyes.

"Darling, c'mere," he huffed, "Jacket. Off. Unbutton your shirt some. Relax." The man kissed at Hongjoong's knuckles, a habit he picked up from knowing Hongjoong, and knowing Hongjoong only. He let go of the other's hand and stepped back to take off his own stressfully official uniform. Joong didn't skip a beat, shrugging off the clunky, warm jacket the soldiers always wore on their shifts and unbuttoned the three top buttons of his shirt, and in truth, he already felt calmer.

Seonghwa was sat on his bed, left in only a tank top he insisted on wearing under everything, and those military mandated pants Hongjoong lamented were a "menace to society." He patted the spot right in front of him, right between his legs, and Hongjoong knew he was wrong about what Seonghwa wanted tonight.

More than anything, tonight Seonghwa wanted to hold Hongjoong. Thus, Joong sat down right where Hwa wanted him, with his back on the older's chest. 

"You're incredibly cliche sometimes, Hwa," Hongjoong mumbled with a smirk. "So, so, incredibly cliche." His sentence faded with the stress, both leaving him when arms circled his waist and a pair of lips so gently pressed up and down his neck. He leaned his head against Seonghwa's shoulder to give him the space to kiss Joong wherever. 

"Would you like to talk about it?" 

"Mmmmm," Hongjoong looked up to the ceiling, as if he actually had to think about that. "No. I'd rather hear about your day. What does Mr. Pretty Boy do in this office all day?" A pause. "Does he learn what colors are acceptable to wear when his hair is that bright?" 

"Hmm, maybe," Seonghwa answered, preceded by a chuckle, "or maybe he thinks about his poetry addict, wondering how often a day he complains about the pants being  _ atrocious. _ " 

"I do not complain about it!" 

"-That often?" 

"Oh, hush, Seonghwa. You know you're the only one I complain to anyways." 

Hongjoong closed his eyes and for just a while, he drifted. In the space between consciousness and the pair of lips that forced him to relax, only ever stopping to sing Hongjoong a lullaby only the two knew, Hongjoong let himself feel safe. In the stream of semi-awakeness before he succumbed to sleep daring to pull him away, he pouted, just a tad, and Seonguwa complied, pecking a little kiss on his lips before going back to singing again. 

Seonghwa watched the man fade into sleep with such intent, like he was watching a meteor shower light the sky into a midday state, and perhaps that's how it felt for him. Like watching the stars. As Hongjoong finally fell fully to sleep, he shifted in Seonghwa's arms and turned to the side to weasel his way into a position where Joong had nuzzled himself into Seonghwa's neck and let his hands fall to the bed behind Hwa's back. In return, Seonghwa moved his arms so that one could pet Joong's hair and the other could lay over his arms and across his back. 

The little things had always amazed him about Hongjoong, like his sleep habits, for example. The man had a terrible time sleeping without something to hold onto, without something warm to burrow his face into when he had nightmares (and that is why Seonghwa gave the boy a teddy bear he promised his mother he'd take with him.) He also snored, just a bit, and Seonghwa knew with his whole heart he'd have to deal with it on a much larger scale later in life. He didn't mind that at all, not for the tiny, almost inaudible snores Hongjoong made then that Seonghwa found so inexplicably adorable. 

Then, someone dropped something in the room above them, and Joong shot back to life (and nearly out of the room.) In an instant the boy was wide-eyed, near to jumping out of bed had Seonghwa not held onto him. He started to breathe hard, and he had tears in his eyes as he looked around frantically, Seonghwa not quite pulling him back to sit down, but holding onto his hip as he sat up on his knees to match Hongjoong. 

"Where's the fight-" he asked breathlessly, "what's happening, Seonghwa? What side?!" Hwa was sure Hongjoong wasn't even breathing now, twitching and jittering, but not moving, not with his lover's hands on him. 

Seonghwa cradled his face. He tried to fight a sad expression, too, as he answered, "no fight. Nothing's wrong, Joong, something fell upstairs. You're ok, you can breathe." 

Still, Hongjoong's adrenaline fell into a panic attack as Seonghwa guided him to sit down on the bed. Another kindness Hongjoong didn't think he deserved, Seonghwa understood what Hongjoong needed. He let Hongjoong sit, and placed Joong's small hand on Hwa's chest, right over his heart, and wiped his tears, and murmured for him to, "breathe, Joongie. I know. I know, it's ok. You're ok. I'm ok. Just like that. Good job, Love." All the while, he punctuated his sentences with kisses to Hongjoong's forehead, swept Joong's bangs out of his eyes, made sure he could see. 

That was important to Joong when he panicked. Being able to see. Neither knew why. 

Hongjoong came down from his panic, eventually just looking Seonghwa in the eyes, and holding his hands, and sobbing, as quiet as he could until he willed himself to calm down. 

Seonghwa watched broken-heartedly as Hongjoong forced himself to mute his cries for fear of being caught. 

When he was done, Hongjoong let his forehead rest on Seonghwa's. 

"I can't. I can't do it. I can't do it, Seonghwa, I'm not strong enough. Im not strong enough and I won't make it. Not when everyone who sees me knows in worthless, when they refuse to take a risk on the boy who brought a stack of poetry books and fashion catalogues with him in his little bag and has this stupid fucking hairstyle, and is glued to- god, the commander's hip as often as he can. They'll leave me for dead at any given chance, and I-" Joong's rambling stops as he chokes up, tears threatening to drop down his cheeks again. 

"I know I'm not strong enough to survive this," Hongjoong whispered, "I'll never be, and I can't bare to leave you alone like that." 

Seonghwa gave him a simple answer, and one that solved nothing, in the long run, but Seonghwa believed he had all the time in the world to convince his Hongjoong that he was too strong to ever let some silly little war take him out. "Then don't." 

And for that night, Hongjoong didn't. 

"Your hair looks stupid with hair gel in it," Hongjoong whispered, smiling, when the horns sounded, signalling that they needed to wake up the next morning. There weren't any windows in Seonghwa's small bedroom office, but Seonghwa leaned over his lover carefully to turn the lamp on, and oh when it came, Joong was dazzled once again by Seonghwa's light.

July 4

The men around Hongjoong milled about, shoving past Hongjoong and treating scratches, gashes, and other wounds. To Joong's knowledge, the battle had been relatively successful, him being the only one with a bullet Wound. 

Somehow, though, every other person seemed to be of more importance. Nurses milled by, and quietly, politely, he'd ask for help. Eventually, he begged for help, until the soldier next to him, who looked to be bandaged up completely mumbled something under his breath. 

"What.." Joong's voice was shaking, he hated how pathetic it made him sound. "What did you just say?" 

The soldier next to him rolled his eyes. "I  _ said _ there are other  _ soldiers _ that need  _ help _ . The guy who saved you might as well have been donating to charity anyway. Count your fucking blessings." 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes right back, turning away from him in some cowardly move to hide his obviously teary eyes. "I have a  _ bullet _ in my  _ thigh! _ I could get infected, you fuckard!" 

"And is that the nurses fault if you weren't quick enough?" 

" _ To dodge a bullet? _ Perhaps it isn't the nurses, but I surely shouldn't be blamed for taking a bullet to the leg!" 

"We are trained specifically for these conditions! Maybe, just maybe, you didn't pay well enough in training!" 

"This is ridiculous." Hongjoong muttered, finally standing up and limping toward the exit to the medical tent.

"Where do you think you're going?" The soldier called with an incredulous edge.

"I have a friend across the street. He'll know what to do." 

"Who?" The soldier laughed, "Commander Park? He wouldn't spare a glance at you anymore." 

Joong stopped cold, whipping his head around as fast as he could manage to look at the soldier. "Fucking  _ watch him, _ " Was all he said as he turned back to limp along to the door to Seonghwa's office, in the audience of the whole tent. He climbed the steps, barely, and did all he could not to collapse at his door alone. One, two, three, four knocks was their signal, and almost too quickly, the Commander's door flew open. He looked a contained sort of excited, and then a contained sort of horrified. He looked to Joong's leg, and then to the tent of nurses and soldiers, and quickly he understood. The tent was fixed with a glare as he personally helped the wounded boy in the door. As soon as the door closed, Seonghwa flipped like a switch, looping his arm around Hongjoong's waist and  _ really  _ helping him move, eventually sitting him on the chair next to his desk. 

"My god, what happened to you, darling?" 

To Hwa's great surprise, Hongjoong forced a smile. "Would you believe me if I told you it was simply a spider bite?" It would never cease to amaze the commander how stable Hongjoong could remain when under pressure, especially pressure like this.

"You're not funny," Hwa deadpanned, cradling Hongjoong's face in contrast to his harsh tone. "I'm going to find a nurse who actually gives a shit. Keep pressure on the wound, and don't die on me, alright? We have a cat to adopt." He left quickly to go find someone, and thus Hongjoong sat alone in his lover's office. He did what Seonghwa told him, leaned on the hand pressing into his wound to stop the bleeding, but as he did so, he reached out to the desk ahead of him. He grabbed a pen, and whatever piece of paper had a blank backside, and he wrote like all the poets he'd ever read of.

Now, no one knows what this note said aside from Hongjoong and Seonghwa themselves, as they never shared, but it's said that that note was precisely what cemented it in Seonghwa's mind that they would have to escape. Somehow, despite it being unfinished, Hongjoong having been interrupted by the arrival of his help, whatever was said was powerful enough to make Seonghwa leave behind everything he was meant to lead.

As was said, though, Hongjoong was halted in the midst of this by Seonghwa's arrival. He was accompanied by an older woman, he presumed a nurse. It wasn't anything but seconds that passed before Seonghwa stood at his side with an iron grip on the man's hand. 

"Hi, Hongjoong. My name is Florence. What happened?" The nurse started to check out the wound on his knee, not touching it just yet.

"Hi, Florence. My name is Hongjoong, and I got shot in the leg and dragged back here by my torso." 

The nurse grimaced, rightfully so, and Hongjoong felt a squeeze on his hand, compelling him to look up at Seonghwa. The other man cradled Joong's face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He whispered something Joong couldn't quite catch before the nurse continued.

"Ah, rough morning then?" 

"Just a bit." 

"Some tea should help."

"I'd quite literally rather die, Miss Florence." 

The nurse gave a quiet laugh, finally dropping her bag to the floor and opening it up. "Well, lucky for you there's another solution. This one isn't as relaxing." 

Hongjoong snorted, "you know what? It still sounds better than tea." 

"You sound like an absolute travesty, Hongjoong." 

Florence pulled a pair of scissors from her bag, causing Hongjoong's eyes to widen almost comically as he sputtered, "Oh my god. Are we- wait, no, will you really cut off my leg?" To this, the nurse laughed, quietly. 

"No, Hongjoong," she replied, "I promise I'd need a bigger tool to cut off your leg. These are just to cut off your pant leg so that I can treat your wound. Is that ok with you?" 

Timidly, Hongjoong nodded. 

For someone who acted so calm, Florence had never seen someone pass out so quickly, and just from the sight of a needle.

He woke up, surprisingly enough to him. It didn't take him too long to recognize that he was in Seonghwa's bed, and not only that, he was propped up by several extra pillows in Seonghwa's bed. He looked around, just to find the owner snoring in the chair Joong had passed out in, cheeks stained with dried tear tracks. 

His leg hurt. That was to be expected. 

He didn't want to wake Seonghwa up  _ just _ to complain, though, so he quietly took one pillow out of the stack holding him up and held it to his chest. It was Seonghwa's, and Hongjoong knew that as he leaned his cheek against it, letting Seonghwa's quiet snores lull him back into sleep like he had so many nights before. He couldn't quite reach sleep, though, the pain growing ever stronger the more aware he became to his surroundings. It became harder and harder not to make sound as his leg throbbed sending Hongjoong reeling with every move he regretfully made. 

He was crying, as silently as one can, when Seonghwa awoke. Obviously, as anyone would when watching a loved one suffer, Seonghwa rushed to his aid as if there was something he could do. 

"Hongjoong," he whispered, "Darling, please look at me." 

Of course, the soldier looked up to meet Hwa’s eyes. Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Hwa’s eyes so misty, but it certainly hurt more than any other instance. It was most definitely because the pain in his leg was the cause, and Hongjoong hated to be the cause of his tears. 

It only brought Hongjoong's quiet cries to a crescendo of whimpers and sobs when Seonghwa pressed his forehead to the boy's. He cupped Joong's face, (and he would never be able to stress enough how  _ gentle _ Hwa consistently was,) and just… cried. He let Joong cry, too, let him finally break after what felt like hours of trying to keep quiet for the sake of his lover. 

He felt  _ awful _ . 

He was in pain. 

He was in Seonghwa's arms.

"I was so scared," Seonghwa whispered, finally, after a quiet spell. He planted a kiss on Hongjoong's lips. "I was so worried about you, my love." 

"I know, Hwa," was all Joong could reply. 

"I'm so sorry, Joongie." 

"I kn-" he choked. Another wave of tears wracked him, prompting the commander to pull him into a tight hug. Through the tears, and through the excruciating pain, he continued. "I know, Hwa. 'N I'm so- I'm so sorry. I scared you, 'n I thought I was gonna- gonna die and I-"  _ scared you _ . He couldn't bring himself to say it, and maybe never would. 

"Don't be sorry, Joong. Hey," Seonghwa made Hongjoong look him in the eyes once more as he spoke. "You're a hero, darling. You put your life on the line, and I'm so proud of you." 

"But?" The soldier asked in a whisper. 

"But, I miss seeing you happy. It devastates me that you're burning out, and… And I'm so  _ scared  _ that one day you'll stop coming back. I want to see the man I fell in love with happy, and more importantly, alive." Seonghwa was whispering to him now, like the conversation was some quiet secret. Hongjoong didn't understand it yet, but he would. 

"Ok… So, what do we do about it?" 

"Hongjoong, I think we need to run away." 

July 9th

**  
  
**

The plan had been simple when Seonghwa explained to Hongjoong. While in remission, Seonghwa and Hongjoong would sneak off, dressed in the only clothes they had that weren't uniforms. Seonghwa had kept them ever since training, (Hongjoong knew, because he'd sifted through the drawers in Seonghwa's room time, time, and time again.) They would leave, under the cover of night, and find the nurse that helped Hongjoong. She was in on it, and planned to give them a free ride far away from that place. It was a shoddy plan, and Hongjoong had half of a mind to tell Seonghwa they'd definitely get caught, but a naive part of Hongjoong wanted it to work, so he kept his doubts at bay, if only for the moment. 

He somehow kept those doubts quiet up until now, as Seonghwa helped him limp down a dark alleyway. It took everything in him not to cry out over the pain in his thigh, but he managed with a tight squeeze around Seonghwa’s shoulders. They seemed nearly in the clear, halfway down the secluded and long alley, when a sergeant started down the same path, popping in from the opposite side. They approached each other, slowing down in suspicion of the opposing party. Seonghwa knew this sergeant well, one might even call them friends. However, this same man, like most around here, was not fond of the wounded soldier. The sight of him left Hongjoong pale.  _ It’s over,  _ he figured,  _ We’ll never get out. _

The sergeant stopped when their paths finally crossed, and he gave Hongjoong a judgmental once over before settling his gaze on Seonghwa. “Commander Park?”

“Sergeant Liu,” Seonghwa replied, breathlessly, “listen, I can explain and this isn’t-”

“No, no. I understand, Commander. They’ll look for you, though.”

“I know.”

“You better get far away before they notice.”

“I… I will. Why are you..?”

“I understand,” Sergeant Liu told him, sullenly, “You love him. No one else would be willing to stick their arm out for him again. While I’ll never understand how this comradery came to be.. I remember losing someone like that, and you don’t deserve that, Park. Now go, before I change my mind.” With that, the sergeant continues along, but not before “accidentally” bumping into Hongjoong, sending him collapsing to the ground.

Seonghwa pulls him up, this time serving as the only support for Hongjoong as they make their way, closer and closer, to the nurse’s buggy. It was so close, and Hongjoong could see Florence, waiting at the wheel.

June 1, five years later

****  
  


The day was beautiful, something Joong was grateful for because it meant he could start his spring routine. He stepped out onto the porch, opening the door to let his cat wander out with him. There were two rocking chairs there, on one side of the small deck, and Hongjoong always, without fail, took the right. He sat down, and into his lap leaped Cosmos. The little creme cat was used to this exact routine, of waking up, eating breakfast and reading on the porch. He didn't mind, taking this as an opportunity to sunbathe and get just as much attention as he can from the poetry addict, and said poetry addict was just as ok with the arrangement. They both had something in common. 

Both were waiting for a certain blonde. 

Seonghwa had his own routine every morning, one that Hongjoong could never understand, but which worked out nonetheless. Always, Seonghwa woke up before dawn, and always he would be out in town, and come back by noon. Hongjoong waited, every nice day, outside the house, poetry in hand. Seonghwa wondered how Hongjoong could read the same three books every day, but he didn't mind coming home to it every day.

Today was the same, and Seonghwa could see the familiar sight as soon as he came over the peak of the hill. A small boy, with a cat in his lap, reading  _ Cinq Grandes Odes _ . It was always the old, doodle-covered, war torn version, despite Seonghwa buying him a newer edition of it two years ago. For some reason, Seonghwa found that more endearing than if Hongjoong used the newer book. 

Hongjoong didn't look up when Seonghwa stepped onto the porch, as he didn't need to. Seonghwa caressed the boy's face, bringing it up to kiss him on the forehead, as he tended to do every single time he saw Hongjoong. Hongjoong gave a smile, quickly switching to a pout, a silent beg for a kiss. The older was all too willing to comply, pressing a soft kiss to his lover's lips in the soft light of the afternoon. "Good afternoon, love," he mumbled against the boy's lips. 

"How was your morning?"

"A tad gloomy, it was stormy when I left." 

Hongjoong giggled as a reply, "ah, then maybe you ought to go change?"

"No.." he pulled Hongjoong into a hug, making sure his wet clothes were in contact with the boy. "I think I'd like to stay here and cuddle you, darling." 

Hongjoong yelped as he tried pushing himself away. Cosmos, with a shriek, skittered off. It prompted Joong to hiss, "Cosmo, you little traitor," as he struggled, ever laughing, with Hwa. It was a small fight that Joong won, if not without getting his clothes a bit damp. "I really don't understand how you didn't dry off in the hour it takes you to walk home. Did you go for a swim without me?" 

Seonghwa laughed at that. "No, Joongie. I wouldn't dream of it." 

A roll of the eyes is all he received in response before Joong went inside, presumably to change into a different set of clothes. Quickly, Seonghwa followed, if only to garner more attention from the boy living in his home. 

It was another routine they had to cook dinner together at night, or moreso, For Hongjoong to make dinner while Seonghwa and Cosmo made a mess, (one that Seonghwa would clean up the next morning.) Hongjoong could hear the cat pouncing all over the kitchen, in a mad dash away from his owner, who chased him with a feather duster. They did their best to avoid Hongjoong, and the stove all together, until Cosmo ran head-first into a bag of flour, knocking it over and sending flour flying onto Hongjoong, and worse, into the stew being cooked. 

Hongjoong froze, as well as Seonghwa. 

"Seonghwa.." 

"Yes, my love?" 

"Don't use that tone with me. You're in trouble." 

Seonghwa knew that much, immediately jumping into action to clean up. Quietly, he rinsed out the washcloth that sat consistently in their kitchen sink and moved to wipe down the- well, the everywhere. The counter was the easier part of this scenario, because the counter wasn't staring him down pointedly like Hongjoong was when Seonghwa turned to wipe off his face. 

"You're staring, my darling." 

"Oh, I know." 

"I'm so sorry." 

Hongjoong wasn't going to smile, he refused to. Not when he had to remake dinner because the flour had  _ ruined _ it, and when the two of them would most  _ definitely  _ have to bathe the cat later, and  _ especially  _ not when he was covered in flour. 

However, Seonghwa held his hand, and played with his fingers in a silent request to pull the flour-drenched man closer, and when he nodded, he pulled the man closer. Hongjoong leaned against the counter, and he  _ didn't _ smile. 

"I love you, my moon and stars," Seonghwa mumbled, starting to clean off Joong's face. Still, Hongjoong refused to smile. 

"I could do this myself, y'know." 

"I know, but I'm in trouble, and I want to make sure my lovely, beautiful, precious, favorite person is completely clean." 

"You're not helping your case, Park Seonghwa." If Hongjoong cracked a small smile, he certainly wouldn't admit it. 

"I know I'm not, but I think I've got the spirit." 

"I know you think you do." 

The washcloth ran over Joong's lips, and while Seonghwa knew Hongjoong would have to shower tonight, he figured the effort was what mattered. He kissed Hongjoong, and as annoyed as Joong claimed he was, he rolled his eyes and smiled into it, pulling Hwa into a gentle hug. 

When they finally separated, Hongjoong resumed his faux anger, maneuvering out of his lover's hold and starting toward the bathroom. "Restart dinner while I'm in the shower," he called, turning on the shower, "maybe if it's good you won't have to sleep on the couch tonight." 

"Cruel, Joongie! Very cruel!" 

They both knew Hongjoong wouldn't last the night sleeping without him. He'd never be able to. 

Dinner was terrible, hence why Hongjoong was normally in charge of dinner, but it wasn’t like the boy minded. Dinner was dinner, in his eyes and it was certainly better than the food they served in the army. He couldn’t care less anyway, as tired as he suddenly was, and expressed as he opened the windows facing their bed.

“It’s a beautiful night, Hwa, can we  _ please _ leave the windows open?” 

Seonghwa sighed from the kitchen.. He knew quite well he wouldn’t say no, even though the breeze that somehow  _ always  _ wafted in when he woke up annoyed the shit out of him. He groaned a, “yes,” before flicking off the light in the kitchen and moving into their shared room. He collapsed onto the bed, a rather dramatic action, and from a man who Hadn’t changed yet. “Joongie, darling, come to bed.” he slurred his words, elongating them “for effect.”

Turning, Hongjoong looked back at the man. He smiled, and answered, “not until you stop laying around and change for bed.”

Thus, Seonghwa begrudgingly stood, begrudgingly pulled off his shirt, and begrudgingly stepped out of his pants before not so begrudgingly meandering over to his lover and hugging him from behind. He tugged the both of them back, against Hongjoong’s protests, and the two came crashing onto the bed when Seonghwa finally got caught on the edge. Though Hongjoong, for the second time that night, attempted to seem mad, he simply couldn’t help but relax when the other pulled him up and settled him in his arms. Joong looked out at the night sky as he relaxed further into his lover’s hold, and smiled when Cosmos sauntered in the door and jumped up onto the bed, headbutting his way into Hongjoong’s arms, at the very forefront of this spooning pile they’d created. 

“And though he loved the moon and the stars, no love could ever be... like the love he felt for the boy he met, in the land of the iron cities.” The words were whispered by a sleepy Hongjoong, who played with Seonghwa’s fingers in the light of the moon. 

All the while, Seonghwa kissed along his shoulder, only pulling away to ask,”and which poet was that?”

“Yours truly.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

Seonghwa leaned up on his elbow to look Joong in the eyes. “Did you write a poem about me?”

Hongjoong smiled back. “Why wouldn’t I?”

It was like gravity, the force that pulled Hwa in to kiss Hongjoong, deep and slow, and nearly desperate, like the first time they kissed. “I love you so much, Hongjoong,” He whispered against Joong’s lips. “More than any man, woman, or child could ever understand.”

Hongjoong knew, Because he always did.

“I love you more than the moon, and the stars, and the one who hung them all, and even the poetry books you buy me every so often.”

And, like Hongjoong, Seonghwa knew too.

Without another word, he pressed a kiss to Joong’s temple and layed back down. He held the man more intently than before, and Hwa’s other half went to sleep feeling oh so safe, right in his arms, under the light of the stars.


End file.
